Without Her
by MagicaeArtiumLaudator
Summary: Something happens to one of our ladies; will the rest of the team be able to solve a perplexing murder without her? And how will her family cope? Rated T just to be safe. Please R&R!
1. Day 1: Gill

**A/N: Just a little fic that popped into my head... Should have several chapters, but I'll warn you all straight from the off - I'm pretty busy at the moment, I haven't started or even planned out any of the other chapters yet and I've actually only got a vague idea where I'm going with the crime! But I will try my best to update soon. :) Please review! L x**_  
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**I don't own Scott and Bailey. Damn.**

_Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep BEEP._

"Mmmfmh" Gill mumbled, slamming a hand down on her alarm. It was 6am; about 5 hours since she'd gone to bed. When she stumbled out of bed and opened the curtains, it was to discover that it was chucking it down with rain. Gill merely shrugged, however, and marched off to get ready for work. After an extra strong cup of coffee and looking as impeccably smart as always, she was feeling quite cheerful – she wasn't someone who needed much sleep, which was good, considering she couldn't actually remember the last time she'd had what most would deem 'enough'. Gill grabbed her handbag and files and made for the door, preparing to be in the office before 7. She noticed, as she passed her son's room on the way out of the house, that there was a slightly funny smell lingering around his door and made a mental note to remind him to clean his room when she got in that night.

Outside, Gill discovered that her car was too low on petrol to get her to the office. Of course, Sammy had been the last one to drive it (Janet had given her lifts the previous day because Sammy had requested the car that evening well in advance and she hadn't known how late she might be working) – ignoring the beginnings of annoyance that were stirring, she dashed back into the house to get the key to the garage. You didn't manage to be a single mother and very successful at your job without being well-organised and, as such, she had a jerry can of petrol set aside for just such instances.

By the time she'd filled the car up as much as she could, Gill was bordering on being late (by her standards, anyway) and her perkiness was slipping slightly. She'd got cold and wet sorting out her car in the rain and, what was more, she'd spotted a pile of sick at the end of her drive – obviously some drunkard going past in the night. The rain would wash it way but it didn't exactly improve her mood.

"Dickheads," she muttered, as she took the garage keys back into the house. Pausing, she glanced into the living room. There was a bottle of whiskey in there, and she and Julie may have finished off the bottle she kept in her office last week... Something told her this was going to be one of those days… Making up her mind, she marched into the room to retrieve it and take it to work.

"What the hell?" she said, stopping dead in front of the cabinet on which she kept it. There were only a couple of inches left in the bottle, and it had been at least half full last time she'd used it… She didn't need any detective skills to work out where it had gone; it only took her a second to put two and two together and come up with four.

Sammy.

The funny smell outside his room, the vomit outside, the diminished supply of whiskey…

"SAMMY," Gill yelled, stomping back up the stairs. She was fuming. Admittedly, she had been working late last night when she'd said she probably wouldn't, but it wasn't in her control to do anything about that and that was no excuse for him to be at the bottle. Besides, judging by outside, he hadn't been drinking on his own in the house. Had he _driven_ in that state?

Horrified at the thought, She threw open his bedroom door and spotted her son sprawled on his bed, half-dressed, his hair stuck to his face and his mouth open. There was a basin (thankfully empty) on the floor next to him.

"Uh?" he groaned.

Gill glared at him, not that he noticed.

"What in God's name did you do last night?"

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry… Just let me go back to sleep…" he said, yawning widely and still not bothering to open his eyes.

"I don't want apologies that you don't mean, Samuel, I want an explanation. WHAT made you think it was okay to steal my bloody whiskey on a weeknight when I was out and go out on the lash? Please tell me you didn't drive?"

"Mum…"

"Don't you 'mum…' me. I'm going to work now because I am late because somebody didn't fill the car up and then decided to get pissed and make a mess. We'll talk about this tonight and I want to see that bottle of whiskey replaced, that sick gone from the drive and the jerry can in the garage refilled. I'll leave you the petrol money in the kitchen."

"Mmm"

Gill turned on her heel and left his room, resisting the urge to start screaming at him. She loved Sammy very much and normally he was a good kid, but she couldn't forgive him for this until she knew what had gone on and why. And, she admitted to herself, despite her anger she was worried. He was too young to be drinking that amount on a weeknight; that was the kind of thing done by sad old bints like her and Julie who couldn't think of anything else to do. He couldn't have driven; the car was too unscathed, she reassured herself - but she was still concerned.

Gill tried to put it to the back of her mind as she drove to work, feeling slightly tense as she was now half an hour later than she'd planned to be and trying to ignore the fact that it was only about seven hours since she'd last been in the office. Fortunately, she was always there a good hour before anyone else anyway, so nobody would know, but it did mean that she would have less time to go through her emails and see what was going on.

The syndicate were working on a double murder – a young couple in their twenties who had both been found, apparently strangled, in a forest just outside the city. They'd only received the case the previous afternoon but had made a fairly good start; there had been ID on both of them which identified them as John and Katie Rogers; according to records they'd been married for about five months. He worked for an insurance company, she was a journalist. They'd got a couple of family members due in that morning to identify them officially and she'd already told Rachel, Lee, Mitch and Kevin that they'd be talking to them. The crime scene had been thoroughly gone over, the post mortem was due to take place later that morning and results from all the forensics would be through in a couple of days. There wasn't much her team could do until the families had given them a few clues.

Gill sighed as she pulled up at yet another set of red lights. They were both so young, so recently married. She had become very good at emotionally disconnecting herself from cases, she had to be; they all did. But that didn't make them any more pleasant. She usually managed to suppress these kind of thoughts, but because she wasn't having the best morning it was very easy to give in to negativity. She turned the radio up a bit louder and switched to a different station, hoping for some happy music, but no luck – it was all the news and discussion shows, the kind of thing she usually liked to listen to. But not today.

By the time she arrived at work, Gill was quite stressed. It was nearly quarter to eight, and, of course, Janet was already there – she hadn't been a DS long but she'd already adjusted to the hours. Had her DS still been Andy, Gill would have given him a rushed greeting and holed herself immediately up in her office, shutting the door slightly more loudly than usual in order to demonstrate that she did not wish to be disturbed unless it was important. With Janet, however, it was different. They'd been friends for twenty years. And so, when Gill stomped into her office, she didn't even bother closing the door, because she knew Janet would be following her in imminently.

Gill threw herself into her chair and switched her computer on, staring blankly at the screen as it booted up. She was, admittedly, in a bit of a bad mood but it was nothing a chat with Janet, another cup of coffee and getting stuck into her work couldn't help. Yes, she would be worrying about Sammy until she got home that night and talked to him, but that was no excuse to be moody, and she resolved to have her usual cheerfulness about her by the time the rest of the team turned up.

"Morning," Janet was standing in the doorway, holding two steaming mugs and wearing an expectant expression; clearly waiting to be told what had put Gill in a strop. Gill couldn't help but smile as she reached out for one of the mugs.

"Thanks, cock," she said. Janet settled herself across from her, still with the expression.

"Bad morning?" she asked, sympathy flitting across her face.

"I hate being late," Gill admitted, "but the car had no petrol, traffic was bad, Sammy…"

"The joys of having teenagers," Janet gave her a knowing smile. "What's he done?"

Gill looked briefly down at her coffee before answering, creasing her eyebrows slightly.

"Little bugger's been at my whiskey," she stated, "seems he had a heavy night!"

"On his own?"

"Dunno. I tried to speak to him before I left but he was flat out."

"I wouldn't worry, Gill, he'll have had a friend over or something…"

"Yeah," she said, unwilling to discuss the matter any further. It was unlike Sammy not to ask her before he had anyone over, even Orla. She couldn't help but wonder if Dave had had anything to do with it. "How're the girls?"

"Oh, fine," Janet said matter-of-factly, avoiding Gill's gaze.

Gill didn't answer, merely glanced searchingly at her friend. She got the impression she wasn't the only one hiding things.

At that moment, they were interrupted by everyone except Rachel trooping in, and Gill spluttered slightly into her coffee.

"Shit, we'd better get some work done!"

"Yeah, actually, I need to talk to you about the post-mortem, apparently scary Mary's off somewhere this afternoon and she wants to know if she needs to cram it in late morning or if it can wait 'til tomorrow…"

"It bloody well can't!" Gill raged, already reaching for her phone. "Thanks, Jan, is there anything else?"

"Nothing else to report, when do you want to have the briefing?"

"Half an hour. And call Rachel, tell her if she doesn't get her arse here in time for that meeting then her life won't be worth living."

Ignoring Janet's maddeningly calm, almost indulgent smile, Gill punched in Mary's mobile number and tapped her scarlet nails on the desk impatiently, waiting for her to answer. It was definitely going to be one of those days.

* * *

Twelve hours later found a tired syndicate grouped around the table in their meeting room, each accompanied by a mug or two of something caffeinated. Gill stood at the end of the table and surveyed them before clapping her hands together.

"Right!" she called; everyone fell silent and turned towards her.

"I want to hear what you've all been up to," she began, "but first I need to tell you about the post-mortem." She watched as they searched for pens; Rachel was already scribbling away, Gill observed approvingly.

"They were definitely strangled and that was the cause of death. Neither of them had been kicked about, stabbed, shot, sexually assaulted or harmed in any other way. The positioning of the marks and the few signs of a struggle that we have imply that their killer (or, I think we must assume, killers because who could strangle two people at once?) came up behind them. This person… People… didn't kill them for enjoyment, didn't make them suffer any more than necessary. I don't think it was just some aggressive tosser; this was organised."

"So it must be someone they knew?" Rachel interrupted, eyes bright with the excitement of an investigation.

"I think we can safely assume that, yes. There are no traces of DNA but there is a tiny bit of that powder that you get in disposable gloves on John's neck, so we've sent that off to the lab, see if they can tell us anything. So we're looking for somebody with a definite motive and somebody who knew what I'm about to tell you."

She paused, looking around the room. They were all staring at her expectantly.

"Katie was two months pregnant."

There were a couple of head shakes here and there, the odd longer than necessary blink, Gill saw a nauseated look flit across Janet's face and an angry one across Rachel's, but it was all within a second. It was sad and it was shocking, but they were used to that.

"Now," Gill continued, "we need to know who knew that. Did anyone know, did she even know herself? If nobody knew, was there anyone who could have guessed? Did she seem to have morning sickness, had she put on weight, we need to find out if anyone noticed this and did or didn't put two and two together. A jealous ex-lover is the obvious conclusion but then who is this second person, because there must have been two? So, families!" Gill sat down again and put her glasses on before turning to peer over the top of them at Rachel. "Go."

"Well, we spoke to Katie's parents earlier and either they didn't know she was pregnant or they've decided not to mention it. They officially identified her and then Kev and I asked them a few questions, during which they told us, essentially, that she was young, pretty, good at her job, happily married and her life was generally perfect. They couldn't seem to think of any enemies she might have had. Gave us names of all her ex-boyfriends, but they're all from when she was about nineteen because apparently she met John in her third year of university. They've also given us names and numbers of colleagues that she talked about to them and her best friend of God knows how many years."

Gill nodded, frowning slightly, "Right, well, we all know that lives that look perfect from the outside very rarely are," the bitterness in her voice was carefully disguised, it had no place here. "So let's do some more digging into what she was actually like, not what mum and dad saw through their rosy specs. We'll come back to that later, first I want to hear about John – Mitch?"

"I've got pretty much the same story," Mitch said, "same spiel about how they met at university, stayed together but living separately for a couple of years while they got started with their careers, then decided to tie the knot five months ago…"

The meeting continued in this vein for another two hours, during which they learnt that despite the fact they'd spoken to Katie's colleagues and John's group of mates, nobody had mentioned a pregnancy or any enemies and everyone seemed utterly confused by what had happened. Janet told the team that there wasn't any CCTV around the forest but a couple of petrol stations and pubs nearby had sent their stuff over; no suspicious activity to report. Nobody who worked at either of those places could tell them anything, so Gill decided she'd better get in touch with the press and ask for any witnesses to come forward. The house would be searched tomorrow; they'd be looking in particular for a pregnancy test and signs of anyone interacting with the couple that they didn't already know about. The mobile phones were off being examined by experts, and Gill expected the results of that to come in the following morning. In the meantime, they would await lab results and continue talking to friends and relatives.

"Okay, well done everyone," Gill concluded, taking her glasses off and rubbing a hand across her tired eyes, "back in here at 8 sharp tomorrow morning please, and overnight can we have a think about _motives_, anything we might have overlooked, anything that might make somebody want to kill these two apparently lovely people."

They all nodded, murmuring their goodnights. It was 10 o clock, earlier than Gill would normally finish when she'd got this much on but she really needed to get back to Sammy.

"Pub, Janet?" Gill heard Rachel call across the table. Janet smiled tiredly and replied, "not tonight, Miss Boundless Energy, I'm knackered and I ought to be back before the girls go to bed, it's not fair on mum."

Rachel pulled a face at her friend and turned to Gill, who raised her eyebrows.

"Boss?"

"Love to, Sherlock, but I've gotta get home too," she said, already beginning a text to Sammy to tell him she was on her way.

Rachel looked disappointed and Gill bit back a smirk as Kevin sauntered up, saying, as if it were a chore, "I'll take her for a drink, keep her entertained for a couple of hours."

Rachel pulled another face, but went with him anyway. Janet turned to Gill and they exchanged a look – only a matter of time.

"Alright for these young'uns with their energy and their lack of family commitments!"

Gill smiled. She knew that Janet wouldn't swap for the world.

"Excuse me, lady, we're not that old! Well, some of us aren't…"

"Cheek, you're older than me!"

"Lies!" Gill retorted. It was only a couple of months… "Listen, Jan, I've gotta rush off, I need to talk to the boy. See ya tomorrow."

"Night, hope he's got a decent excuse!"

Gill waved to Janet as she left the room, finishing her text to Sammy on the way down to the car – 'Leaving work now. Home in half an hour max. Need to talk about last night xx'

She plonked herself down in the driver's seat and turned the engine on, buckling her seatbelt as she fiddled with the radio. There wasn't much on at this time of night but she quite liked having it warbling along in the background. It was still raining and Gill put her windscreen wipers on a fast setting, squinting through the rain as she pulled out of the station. Absolutely awful driving conditions, she thought, the traffic cops would be busy tonight.

The roads were fairly quiet and Gill made good time as she headed towards the outskirts of Manchester, back to the more peaceful area that her house was in. She joined the dual carriageway that would take her back home, pressing her accelerator to the floor to get up to speed. Suddenly, through the rain, she saw an outline of a car much too close to her – it was crawling along, doing about 45mph in the 70 limit, and one of the maniac's rear lights was out, which explained why she hadn't seen it through the driving rain. She was doing about 60, slower than the limit because of the weather but still much too fast given how close this car was. Unable to move into the right hand lane because of other cars, she slammed her foot down onto the brake too hard for the conditions – the car wouldn't slow down – it skidded – she felt the back end veering towards the left, eased her foot off the brake and steered into the skid, concentrating with all her might on maintaining control of the car, aiming to move it into the hard shoulder to avoid hitting anyone while the car slowed. For a split second, she thought she'd saved it, but then it was careering towards the crash barrier and there was a wall on the other side - there was nothing else she could do, it was completely out of her control; Gill let out a yelp and took one of her hands off the wheel, trying to cover her head with her arm as the car slammed into the crash barrier, still at 60mph, and was propelled over it and into the wall. A series of bangs, the sickening scream of metal twisting, a blinding pain and everything went black.


	2. Day 2: Sammy: Part 1

**A/N: Sorry to leave you on a bit of a cliffhanger for so long! This chapter is divided into two parts because it was too long for just one. I'd like to apologise if any of my medical or hospital procedure stuff is wrong; I really don't know how this would actually go in real life! But hey, it's fanfiction, right? So I'm allowed a bit of leeway ;) Also I'm assuming that Sammy's full name is Samuel; please do correct me if I'm wrong! Thank you so much for reviews, subscriptions and favourites – please keep them coming! Enjoy! L x**

Sammy Murray threw his phone unceremoniously down onto the coffee table and groaned, sprawled out on the living room sofa. It was just gone 11pm; his mother had texted him over an hour ago to say she'd be home in half an hour max. Normally he'd easily still be up at this time, but it had been such a heavy night the night before that he was already tired. He just wanted to go to bed.

It was not unlike his mum to be late home; she had a very important job and he admired her for that, but he could have done without it tonight, seeing as he couldn't go to bed until she was back because she was so keen to talk to him about last night.

Last night. Sammy felt a twinge of guilt. It wasn't what she thought. He had taken the car, as he'd requested, and picked Orla up to take her out for a meal at a nice restaurant. They'd been together one year that day. The meal had been lovely, but over dessert they'd started bickering about next year… Sammy had told her previously that he would definitely be staying in Manchester (she was a year younger than him and therefore would still be in sixth form), but towards the end of the meal had confessed there was still a chance he might go to Exeter. She'd been upset at the idea of him being so far away (and he could completely understand; he was equally as upset) but what had annoyed her was the way he kept changing his mind. Perhaps she was worried about him, perhaps she'd just been tired, perhaps it was the sadness speaking – for whatever reason, it had escalated into an argument. He'd dropped her at her house then driven straight home, where he'd brooded on the sofa for a while before getting a text from one of his friends, Ben.

"How's it going? ;)"

Sammy had snorted derisively – he'd told Ben that he was taking Orla somewhere special tonight and that they would have the house to themselves for a good couple of hours afterwards. Ben, who didn't have a girlfriend, thought this was much more of a big deal than Sammy did and had been teasing him all day.

"She's gone home," Sammy had replied, not wanting to go into why.

"Never mind mate. Can I come over instead? Mum's driving me up the wall."

Sammy had agreed; Ben had the opposite problem to him – while Sammy was lucky to see his mum for more than a couple of hours a day, Ben's mum didn't work and spent all her time nagging him.

So, Ben had come over and they'd lazed around playing COD and snacking for a while, until Sammy's phone had rung – his dad. He'd gone outside, not wanting Ben to overhear anything; he knew what this would be about. He had calls like this much more often than he'd told his mum; he didn't want to worry her, she'd got enough on her mind.

"Saaaaaaaaaam"

"Hi dad..."

"I've been thinking, we need to have more QUALITY TIME" he half shouted, half slurred. "I'll come over and see you. We can watch telly and have – have a beer," he hiccoughed.

"No."

"Whyyyyy"

"You're pissed."

"So? Gill's not in, is she, she's never fucking in," he mumbled.

"Shut up," Sammy had snapped.

"Sammy, Sammy"

"NO dad! I'm sick of you calling me all the time like this. You know mum doesn't like you coming over, she'd never let you stay the night and I don't fucking blame her!"

"AHhh she's just being a bitc-" Dave stopped himself, even in his drunken state seeming to realise that he was saying that to the wrong person. It was too late though. Sammy's blood was boiling; he had never been so angry. He loved his mum more than anything and he fully understood what a bastard his dad was. He'd put up with this for far too long. It needed to stop.

"I never," he said, with a brave attempt at calmness, though he could hear his voice shaking with suppressed anger, "want to hear from you again. I won't take any more of this shit. Fuck off-" he paused, taking a breath before saying the final word, "Dave."

Sammy hung up the phone and went inside. He didn't regret calling his dad Dave. He didn't want to call him dad anymore.

"Everything okay?" Ben asked, his eyes glued to the screen.

"Fine." Sammy replied. "Shall we have a drink?" He'd suggested, feeling suddenly reckless. He was still shaking with anger.

Ben had been up for that and before they knew it they'd had half a bottle of whiskey and a few beers each. They hadn't done anything except sit around slurring at each other with the TV on in the background, until around midnight when Ben had called a taxi. Sammy went outside with him to wait for it and keep an eye on him – a good job, because he'd been sick at the end of the drive. After bundling Ben into the taxi, Sammy had stumbled up to his room, taking a basin with him just in case, and passed out in bed.

So really, Sammy hadn't done much wrong other than steal some of his mum's whiskey. She, of course, probably thought he'd been driving around and off clubbing and all sorts. He'd tried to phone her at lunchtime but her phone had been engaged and he'd decided to leave her to it; she was obviously busy. He'd cleared up Ben's sick, replaced the whiskey and bought the petrol as she'd instructed and was ready with his explanation for when she got back.

Sammy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He would have to tell her about Dave. He didn't want her to think he was becoming an alcoholic or something, and he supposed she had a right to know. He just didn't want to upset her. He couldn't bear to see the pain in her eyes whenever Dave was mentioned.

He checked his watch again. Sammy was used to his mum being late home and had long grown out of panicking if she was late, but he had to admit he was worried now. It was an hour and a half since she'd texted. Had something come up at work?

He was interrupted from his musings when the home phone rang. Sammy approached it cautiously, wondering if it would be Dave, trying to trick him into answering. When he looked at the number, however, it was one he didn't recognise.

"Hello?"

"Could I speak to Samuel Murray please?"

"Speaking," Sammy answered nervously. The woman at the other end of the phone sounded serious.

"Samuel, I'm sorry to tell you that your mother has been involved in a traffic accident. I'm afraid it's rather serious."

Sammy's mind went numb with shock. No way. His mother was a trained police driver, she could drive better than anyone he knew, she'd never get into an accident.

"How serious?" He stuttered.

"She's unconscious. I'm afraid I can't tell you any more over the phone."

Sammy nodded, not thinking about the fact that the woman on the phone couldn't see him.

"Where is she?"

"Manchester Royal Infirmary, intensive care."

"I'm on my way," he said, hanging up. He needed to go there, now. But he didn't know how. He couldn't call a taxi; he didn't have any cash on him. He'd rather run there than ask Dave for help, and he certainly didn't want Dave at the hospital.

Sammy was feeling quite panicky by now; he didn't know how much danger his mum was in and every second that he stood here trying to think what to do was a second wasted that he could have been with her. Then, all of a sudden, it came to him – Janet. He knew Julie was his mum's best friend but he knew Janet better and there was something very calming about her. He picked up the phone and dialled her number shakily.

"Hello?"

It was Elise.

"Elise, it's Sammy. Can I speak to Janet please?" he asked without further ado.

"Oh… Okay, one sec."

She sounded a bit confused; usually Sammy and Elise had a good chat when they spoke, but he didn't have time for pleasantries.

"Hello?"

"Hi." Sammy faltered. He couldn't think how to say it. His breathing was shallow, his heart racing and he couldn't think straight.

"Sammy? Are you alright?"

"Um."

"What's happened?" Janet's voice sounded urgent.

"It's mum," he managed to get out, "she's in hospital, they said-" he took a deep breath, willing himself not to break down, "they said it's serious, she had a car crash, I don't know how serious but I can't get there."

"I'll take you," Janet said immediately. No questions, no useless reassurances – just how he knew she would react. "I'll be over as quickly as I can."

She hung up. Sammy put the phone back down and stared blankly at it for a moment before abruptly turning on his heel and running up to his room. He retrieved shoes, a hoody, his keys and his wallet, picked up his phone from the living room and headed out of the door, wanting to wait at the end of the drive for Janet.

It seemed like forever that he stood there, shifting his weight from side to side, checking his watch and his phone, pacing up and down. He didn't even notice the rain, lighter than earlier but still drizzling, that was making his hoody steadily damper.

Finally, he saw headlights at the end of the street and he recognised Janet's car; she pulled up next to him and he got straight in, replying to her greeting with a simple "hi". She set off as he'd barely closed the door, and for a few moments they both sat in silence, staring out of the rain-splattered windscreen, their expressions tense, eyes fearful. Finally, Janet spoke.

"What exactly did the hospital say?"

Sammy swallowed. "That she'd been in a 'traffic accident', she was unconscious and it was serious – they wouldn't tell me anything else."

Janet nodded, "They're not allowed to over the phone."

"Thanks for taking me," Sammy said, and the words weren't enough to express his gratitude.

She didn't answer; merely took one of her hands off the steering wheel, reached over and patted him on the knee. He turned his face away, staring out of the window, forcing back the tears that were fighting to come. His mum was the most important person in the world to him – she couldn't die, she couldn't leave him.

What would he do if she did die? How would he cope? He wouldn't, he decided, go back to his dad. Ever. No matter what happened. He knew that if the worst happened, he would pull himself together and get on with his life, because that's what she'd have wanted.

_Don't think like that, _he told himself sternly, _she's not dead. She's just unconscious. She'll be alright. She's the toughest person I know._

But surely he should start preparing himself, just in case?

_No, stop being so morbid._

This vicious circle of thoughts chased each other around his head for the remainder of the journey. Janet was quiet, her eyes fixed on the road, her hands clamped so tightly around the steering wheel her knuckles had gone white. Sammy just stared out of the window. When they arrived at the hospital, Janet parked the car fairly near the entrance – there weren't many cars about, for it was now well past midnight. They both got out, Janet locked the car, they walked towards the hospital. Still neither of them spoke. Sammy thought he might either sob or vomit if he opened his mouth, possibly both.

It seemed to take an eternity and yet no time at all to approach reception. The whole thing felt like a dream. Sammy was aware that they were both walking fast, their pace quickening with every step until they were practically running. It was Janet who spoke first when they got there; in an impressively level voice she said, "We're here for Gill Murray, she was admitted about an hour ago following a traffic accident?"

"Are you relatives?" The receptionist asked, her eyes on her computer screen, fingers busy typing.

"I am," Sammy said, his voice croaky, "I'm her son. Samuel Murray."

The receptionist shot him a sympathetic look. He looked away, uneasy. What did she know?

She turned to Janet questioningly. Janet seemed to hesitate, torn between truth or lies. In the end she settled for the truth, but no qualms about abusing her authority slightly. She flashed her ID at the receptionist.

"DC Janet Scott, Manchester Metropolitan Police Major Incident Team."

The receptionist looked a little unsure, but didn't ask questions.

"Please take a seat. Someone will come and explain what's happening."

The two of them sat. Sammy perched tensely on his chair, resisting the urge to stand up and pace around. Janet sat in a would-be relaxed way, but her hands clasped in her lap were shaking slightly. Sammy had never known nerves like these; worse than his driving test and his A levels and the day he'd asked Orla out all put together. With every minute they sat there, he felt more nervous. It was agonising. When, eventually, he saw a doctor walking calmly along the corridor towards them, he felt his stomach somersault. He stood up, marvelling at the fact that his legs were holding him – they felt like jelly. Janet rose from her seat too.

"Samuel Murray and DC Scott?"

"Yes," Sammy replied, his voice much quieter than intended.

"I'm Dr Patel." He held out his hand and Sammy shook it, past the point of caring that his own hand was clammy. Dr Patel turned to Janet and she, too, returned his greeting somewhat absentmindedly.

"Would you like to come with me?"

Sammy nodded and glanced at Janet, whose face was set. She shot him a tense smile and placed a hand briefly on his shoulder. He took a deep breath and followed the doctor back down a maze of corridors and finally into a neat office. Dr Patel gestured to two seats in front of his desk and Sammy and Janet took them, watching almost fearfully as he sat behind the desk.

"Now, Mr Murray-"

"Sammy" he interrupted. He didn't want all this formality, it felt too distant.

"Sammy," Dr Pate smiled, "Now, I must tell you that your mother has been involved in a bad accident. It appears that the collision occurred at quite a speed. She's got quite a few broken bones; her right arm in particular is going to take a lot of time and patience to heal. She has also suffered some surface wounds; it appears the windscreen shattered on impact. We're still patching her up. The main problem is that she has sustained a head injury, resulting in a cracked skull and some trauma to the brain. The result of this is that she is.." He hestitated, and looked at Sammy almost apologetically, "in a coma."

Sammy blinked. He wasn't sure what to say, or how to react. The initial relief that she wasn't dead was immediately displaced by fear. He opened his mouth then closed it again, looking to Janet for help. She looked stricken, but when she spoke her voice was steady.

"Will she… Wake up?"

"There's about a 60% chance that she will," he replied, "but if and when she does, there may be brain damage. I'm afraid I don't know any more; only time will tell. For the moment, her condition is stable. The next twenty four to forty eight hours are crucial."

Swallowing the lump in his throat with a huge effort, Sammy nodded. Beside him, Janet was breathing deeply. It was hard to know how to feel. On the one hand, Gill wasn't dead and it was more likely than unlikely that she would wake up. On the other, 60% was still a lot lower than anyone would have hoped for and there was this potential brain damage. There was no question what would happen if she did have brain damage; Sammy would look after her and he wouldn't let anyone tell him that he couldn't. He would do what she'd done for him when Dave left her. He wouldn't go to Exeter, but would stay and go straight into police training in Manchester. And she would be alive. But the idea of it was still devastating, because she wouldn't be _her_. And what if she never woke up? He would never be able to explain about last night; their last words to each other would have been an argument. He didn't think he could live with himself if that happened.

"Sammy?" Janet had interrupted his thoughts. She was looking at him very kindly and he realised that his eyes were moist. He blinked.

"Sorry," he muttered. He looked up at Dr Patel, who was looking on sympathetically. "When can I see her?"

"Soon," the doctor answered. "The nurses are just finishing patching her up. I have to warn you… She's taken quite a battering. We've cleaned her up as best we can and the surface wounds on the whole look a lot worse than they are – she was very lucky in that respect, and even luckier that none of her other vital organs have been affected – but I won't pretend it might be upsetting for you."

_Lucky._ How could he say she'd been lucky? She was in a coma! Sammy felt like shouting at him, but at the same time he understood that he was right – she could so easily have been dead. For the moment, he had to try to hang on to that 60% chance she would wake up. Whatever happened after that, Sammy would deal with, and he'd deal with it well. He would never let her down. In that moment, Sammy Murray vowed that if his mother needed him with her for the rest of her life, he would drop everything and stay. Because that's what she'd have done, what she'd already partly done, for him.


	3. Day 2: Sammy: Part 2

**A/N: Ugh I'm so sorry for the delay in posting this chapter! It's not as long as I'd like either but I intend to make the next one better :) I've been so busy recently but things are beginning to quieten down a bit for a few days so hopefully I'll have the next chapter up fairly quickly! Thank you so much for reviews, favourites and subscriptions so far - I'm terrible at PMs on here but I really do appreciate them so much so please keep them coming! Enjoy, I really hope it was worth the wait. L x**

"Here you are," said Janet, handing Sammy a cup of less than appetising looking coffee that she'd just retrieved from a shifty hot drinks machine. She held an equally dubious looking cup for herself. "Sorry if it's disgusting, but that's our lot I'm afraid…"

Sammy forced a smile. She was being so nice.

"It's okay."

Janet sat down next to him. She looked as if she were making up her mind whether or not to say something. He looked at her questioningly and she shifted slightly in her seat, turning towards him and resting her arm on the back of the seat, her head against her hand.

"Do you want to talk about anything the doctor said?"

"There's not really much to say," Sammy replied, avoiding eye contact. "I just want…" He took a breath, trying to pull himself together. "I just wanna see her."

Janet nodded, looking down into her coffee cup. He could tell she felt the same. And suddenly it struck him, through his grief, that Janet was almost as upset as he was and she was playing the responsible adult. He reached over and took hold of her hand. She squeezed his tightly, blinking rapidly.

They remained sitting there, holding hands, sipping the stale coffee, staring at the floor, for God knows how long. Sammy lost track of time, wondering what could possibly be taking so long. How many broken bones did his mum actually have? Would any of them cause lasting damage? And what were the statistics to do with the coma; he wanted more detail than this 60/40. Why hadn't he asked the doctor all this earlier?

These questions chased each other through his mind, but they alternated with stretches of utter numbness, where he couldn't have asked a question if you paid him. Then they'd all come flooding back, and so it went on.

Finally, the sound of footsteps announced the return of Dr Patel. Sammy and Janet stood up together, his hand slipping out of hers and moving to rest on his hip; subconsciously wiping the clamminess off on his jeans.

Dr Patel smiled calmly.

"You can see her now," he said. Sammy glanced sideways at Janet, who was nodding, a muscle in her jaw twitching slightly. She looked as if she were gritting her teeth. Perhaps she was still gulping back the urge to cry… Sammy knew how she felt. She looked back at him, silently asking him if he wanted her to go too. He nodded. She looked almost grateful and he felt a surge of affection for the woman who'd dropped everything to help him out, the way he knew she had before for his mum.

They stood up. Janet squeezed Sammy's hand briefly before releasing it. She drew her cardigan more tightly around herself, her hands hugging her waist as if she were trying to physically hold herself together. Sammy, on the other hand, didn't feel like he knew what to do with his limbs. He was nervous about going to see his mum – really nervous. He could feel his pulse throughout his whole body and his legs felt shaky. The pair followed Dr Patel, both trying to exude calmness, but both with the same haunted look in their eyes. Finally, they came to a private room. It had lots of windows, but the blinds were all shut – as was the door. Dr Patel paused, his hand resting on the handle, and turned to them.

"I warn you," he said, "You can tell that she's been in the wars. Don't let it upset you too much; most of it will heal easily, given time."

"Does she look…?" Sammy couldn't think how to express his question; he was scared that she would look like a corpse; he had never seen a comatose person before. "The coma…"

Dr Patel seemed to understand.

"She just looks like she's sleeping. She won't respond to things you say or do, but I would definitely encourage talking to her and holding her hand. It certainly won't do her any harm and it might even do her some good."

Sammy nodded. Dr Patel pushed the handle down, held the door open, gestured for Sammy and Janet to go in. Sammy took a deep breath before he stepped into the room. His eyes fell first on the foot of the bed, a lump in the crisp, white hospital sheets where Gill's feet were, then travelled up to where her arms rested on top of the sheets. Both were heavily bandaged; one was in a cast. Sammy could see a drip inserted into the veins of the hand that wasn't in cast. Her torso was covered by the hospital gown, patterned with writing – the name of the hospital. Wires snaked out from the sleeves and up to humming, flashing machines by the side of the bed. Her neck was in a brace; of course, she must have sustained severe whiplash from the impact. Sammy moved forwards and, finally, stood next to the bed, gazing down at his mother's face in nothing short of horror.

There were cuts all over her cheeks where glass had clearly flown out from the windscreen and embedded itself in her face. Her eyes were closed, and there were even abrasions on her eyelids. She had stitches at one corner of her mouth and another, longer line near her left ear. Her forehead was covered by a bandage, and there was bruising creeping out from under it.

"There's not an open wound on her head," Dr Patel said from behind him, "We think she must have raised her arm in front of it. That would explain the pattern of the bruising and the shattered bones in her right arm. She probably saved her own life by doing that."

Sammy couldn't speak. He bit his lip, fighting harder than ever to keep the tears at bay. Of course she had saved her own life, she'd always saved herself. She'd never asked anyone else to save her, tried never to depend too much on anyone. It was so heartbreakingly familiar to him, that attitude. He couldn't bear to see her now, like this, her life entrusted to the doctors and nurses and machines and the nutrients feeding slowly into her left hand. He couldn't bear to see her looking so battered and broken. His stomach churned; there was an overwhelming urge to turn and run from the room, run to the toilets and throw up all the emotion and horror until he was empty and drained. But he didn't. It wasn't what she would do. If the roles had been reversed, she'd have overcome it and sat by his side and refused to move. And that's what he would do now.

"I'll leave you two alone with her," Dr Patel said gently. Sammy gave a jerk of the head, barely registering the sound of the doctor's footsteps leaving the room and the door closing behind him.

Without a word to Janet, Sammy walked round to the other side of the bed, pulled a chair up and sat down. He reached out and placed his hand over the fingers of her left hand, careful not to disturb the drip. He inched the chair a little closer and fixed his gaze upon her closed eyes, trying to will them to open.

"Sammy?" Janet asked.

He didn't reply. She crossed the room, pulled up the chair next to him. He didn't look at her, but he could hear her sniffing. The tears were streaming silently down his own face, he could feel the wetness on his cheeks, but he ignored it. There was no shaking of limbs, no stifled sobs or nose blowing. Just silent tears. He didn't blink them away, but kept his gaze fixed on his mother.

After about an hour, Janet rose with a murmur that Sammy understood to mean she was going to the loo. He didn't react, but kept his vigil. Janet returned soon after, sat with him for most of the night, but rose occasionally to go and get a drink or have a walk. Sammy remained sitting on the same, uncomfortable seat all night as nurses came and went, as doctor Patel checked in, as Janet continued to take her little breaks.

Finally, when it got to half past six that morning, Janet laid a hand on Sammy's shoulder. He rose his head, which had been half bowed, and looked into her eyes. She looked shattered.

"I'm going to have to go into work now," she said quietly, "I need to let the team know what's… What's happened, and I need to crack on with the case we started yesterday. Your mum wouldn't want us to neglect it on her account."

"No, she wouldn't," Sammy agreed sadly, glancing at Gill's bruised face and wincing slightly at the stab of grief that shot through him. He forced himself to look back at Janet instead.

"What will happen when she's not there?"

"I imagine they'll bring someone in to be the SIO for this case although everything'll be up in the air until we know more."

Sammy nodded. With a final squeeze of his shoulder and a murmured goodbye, Janet stood up and left the room, leaving Sammy alone with his mother. He looked down at her, taking a deep breath.

"Mum…" he whispered, leaning closer to her. He could feel tears beginning to prick at the corners of his eyes but he ignored them. It didn't matter; nobody would see. He traced the fingers of her left hand, the only part of her he dared touch lest he hurt her, with his own. They were so similar; he'd inherited her elegant hands, although his were bigger. The first tear escaped and ran down his cheek as he thought about all the times she'd held his hand, from helping him toddle around when he was a small child to comforting him when his dad had left.

"Mum, please wake up," he begged her quietly, gazing intently at her closed eyes through his tears, willing them to open. He knew it was a clichéd thing to say, he knew it wouldn't do any good, but he felt that all he was able to do was beg her. Maybe if he sounded desperate enough, some mothering instinct or connection deep inside her would hear him.

"Please," he repeated, crying properly now. No response. His head in his hands, Sammy curled forwards until he was sobbing into the sterile sheets. He moved his hands to the top of his head, hiding his face in the bedcover, and clasped them tightly, muttering half-formed prayers to a God he wasn't sure he believed him, gasping for breath in between, his shoulders shaking, body wracked with grief.

* * *

The next thing Sammy knew, it was late morning and a nurse was gently shaking him awake. He'd fallen asleep in that awkward position; when he sat up his back felt stiff and painful.

"Are you alright?" the nurse asked gently. Sammy merely looked at her, not rudely, but in a way that made it clear that it was a stupid question. She tried again.

"When did you last eat?" she persisted, looking concerned.

"Last night." Sammy replied bluntly, "but I'm not hungry."

"I think you should go to the café and get a sandwich. If you haven't got any money on you I'm sure we can -"

"No," Sammy interrupted, "thank you," he added, knowing that she was trying to be kind. "Please, just…" _Just leave me be._

She considered him for a moment, but eventually jerked her head, as if she were doing so against her will.

"Well if you're sure, but please eat something soon. We don't want you starving, it won't help."

Sammy didn't reply. A small part of him was hungry, ravenous in fact, but he felt guilty for it. He shouldn't be thinking about himself. And he didn't want to leave his mum, not for a minute. He hadn't even needed the loo yet. It was like his body approved of his decision to stay with her.

Unfortunately, his stomach, rebelling, chose that moment to give a grumble. He cleared his throat, trying to cover it up, but the nurse wasn't fooled. She surveyed him for a moment with knitted eyebrows. He held his breath, hoping she wasn't about to kick him out. Then, "How would it be if I went and brought you a sandwich? Normally you wouldn't be allowed to eat here but if you promise to sit further away from the bed, not drop any crumbs and use the antibacterial hand gel afterwards, I think we can make an exception."

"Thank you," Sammy replied, allowing himself to give her a small smile. It was very good of her to do that. He knew it may seem a bit petty of him but this way he didn't have to leave his mum.

"I'll be back in a minute," she smiled back and left the room.

The rest of the day wore on, the hours all blending together in the never-changing hospital room. Sammy ate the sandwich, accepted a bottle of water, and finally, late afternoon, gave in and left the room for about a minute to go to the toilet. He ran back, bursting through the door and rushing straight to Gill's side, only to slump back into his chair when he saw nothing had changed. In the evening, Janet turned up again, this time accompanied by Rachel.

"Any news?" Rachel asked him urgently as soon as she entered the room. Sammy shook his head slowly, apologetically. He and Rachel had never met before but he knew who she was. He knew that his mum thought very highly of her.

Janet decided to make the introduction anyway.

"Sammy, this is Rachel," she said, with a pointed glance at Rachel, who was staring determinedly at the wall above Gill's bed, blinking away tears. She looked back upon hearing her name and shot Sammy a sad smile.

"Sorry," she said, taking a seat next to him. "It's just, it's been all day you know and Janet had already been here…"

"It's okay," he replied, "I understand." He paused, then added, "I think mum would be glad you're here."

She opened her mouth and then closed it again, nodding gratefully and brushing away a tear, seemingly unable to speak. Janet gave Sammy a sympathetic smile and took the seat next to Rachel. The three of them turned towards Gill, scanning her for any sign of activity, all of them silent, lost in their own thoughts. And so, the second night of waiting began.


	4. Day 3: Janet

**A/N: Two apologies! Firstly for the MASSIVE delay in posting this, I'm an absolute knob for taking so long! And secondly, I'm so sorry if this chapter is crap. I'm so tired and kind of ill and I really can't be bothered to read it through before I post it. So if there are mistakes and inconsistencies… I'll edit them tomorrow ;) thank you so much for the reviews I've had so far and please keep them coming, let me know if there's anything in particular you want to see happen! L x**

"Mum, are you okay?"

"Hm? Why?" Janet Scott replied, turning to look at her eldest daughter. Elise was leaning against the kitchen counter, looking at her somewhat strangely over the schoolbag she was zipping up.

"You just put the marmalade in your handbag."

"What?" Janet said, checking. "Oh. Wasn't thinking," she said, with an attempt at lightness, removing it and putting it back in the cupboard where it belonged.

"Of course she's not okay, idiot," her younger daughter, Taisie, chipped in. "Would you be okay if one of your best mates was in-"

"Shut up," Elise hissed back at her sister, glaring at her for her bluntness.

"What?" said Taisie, but at the look on Janet's face she fell into an abashed silence.

"Right, well, Gill may be in hospital but I've still got to go into work and you two have got to go to school, so go and jump in the car." Janet said hastily, trying to move the spotlight away from her feelings. Elise marched straight out of the room, but Taisie, grumbling, still had half her bag to pack.

"Come on!" Janet urged, "or it'll be Christmas before you get to school."

"Good," Taisie muttered, but the grumpiness was half-hearted.

Half an hour, and a bit more bickering in the car, later, Janet had dropped her kids off at school and was on her way to the police station. She hoped she would have her act together by the time she got to work; as the DS working with a substitute SIO, she needed to keep standards up for her team's morale. There couldn't be any more clumsiness.

However, that was a lot easier said than done. The fact was that Gill was showing no sign of improvements, and the 48 hours were rapidly running out. Janet had had no sleep the night her friend and boss had been admitted, and only about four very broken hours last night. Every time she managed to doze off, her mind confronted her with images of mangled cars and bandaged limbs, and the maddeningly calm and never-changing rhythm of the bleeping machine Gill was wired up to, and Janet would wake up with tears pricking at the corners of her eyes and anxiety pressing down on her chest. It was all so sudden, so surreal. And then there was Sammy as well; Janet was far more worried about him than herself. He'd been so pale when she and Rachel had visited last night, and Janet was sure he'd spent another night at the hospital. She wondered whether she should try and persuade him to go home for a few hours, or maybe invite him round to hers. One thing she would not do, she was certain, was call Dirty Dave – he would inevitably hear about what had happened through the grapevine but there was no need to give him any indication that his interference would be welcome, because Janet couldn't think of anything Gill would want less.

In the office, the atmosphere was subdued. Even Kevin wasn't his normal self; when Janet entered he was nibbling at a sandwich but, as she knocked on the door to Gill's office, he sighed and threw more than half of it away.

"Come in," came the deep voice of the substitute SIO, a DCI Mark Davis. He was a nice man, firm but fair, with a good sense of humour and a reassuring tone of voice. He was quite formal though; the type of person who could be difficult to get close to. Janet tried to be as polite and relaxed around him as she could, but she couldn't bring herself to feel welcoming towards him, not while he sat at Gill's desk on her computer as she lay fighting for her life in a hospital bed.

"Sir?"

"DS Scott. You're just in time; I've just heard from downstairs that Katie's best friend, Laura, has arrived downstairs. Can you get someone to go down now and interview her, and someone else to get started on the list of people to TIE? I'll go and watch those, you get yourself to the video room and watch the best friend. She might know more about Katie's private life than her parents did."

"Yep," Janet replied, scribbling on her pad. "Anything else?"

"Briefing at midday, please?"

"Okay. See you later."

Rachel was not at her desk. She'd obviously gone outside for a cigarette; she'd been smoking even more than usual since Gill's accident. Janet bit her lip and turned to Mitch.

"Feeling up to some TIEing?" she asked gently. Mitch was good at keeping a cool head in a crisis but Janet could see the worry in his eyes.

"Definitely," he replied, looking relieved at being given something to do.

"Great. Take Kevin with you; keep him out of trouble."

"Will do."

"Oh, and if you see Rach on the way down can you tell her to get a move on; Katie's best friend is downstairs waiting to be interviewed. Lee, you okay to ride shotgun on that one?" she added, turning towards him. He smiled and nodded, standing up and gathering his files together.

"Right, I'm gonna get down to the video room… Pete, if Mitch doesn't catch Rachel could you tell her when she gets back please?"

"Sure thing."

Janet turned and left the room, leaving Pete, who was exhibits officer, to finish making a large mug of coffee to get him through the morning's work, a shadow passing over his face as he gently moved Gill's mug out of the way to take his own out of their little cupboard.

Down in the video room, Janet tried to focus as she watched Rachel and Lee kick off the interview with the best friend. Janet scrutinised the young woman's facial expressions as she answered Rachel's questions. She looked upset and a little scared. A lot of people found the interviewing process, even the more informal one used for those who were not under any suspicion, intimidating.

The majority of the interview didn't give them anything to go on. Janet learnt that Laura had been Katie's best friend since they were teenagers, she was unmarried but in a relationship, no kids, she had been maid of honour at Katie's wedding and she seemed genuinely heartbroken by what had happened. Janet's heart went out to her. Towards the end of the interview, Rachel asked, "if something like a big event happened in Katie's life, who would the first person she told generally be?"

"It depends," answered Laura shyly, "she'd tell John most things but not in a rush. If she was excited or whatever she always called me first."

"What about her parents?" Rachel asked.

"She told them stuff, just not immediately – like I say, we were best friends. We didn't have any secrets from each other, that's how it's always been." She seemed to gulp back tears and Rachel smiled sympathetically at her.

"Okay. I just have one more question. Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to do this to Katie and her husband, and why?"

Laura looked uncertain. Janet immediately picked up on it, and judging by Rachel's next words she had too.

"Everything you tell us can be completely anonymous if you want it to be. If you're frightened…"

"No, it's not that," Laura said quietly, "it's just, I don't want to… I mean, lots of people have grudges – I don't want to say anything that could lead to…"

Rachel seemed to understand what she was getting at. She was afraid of implicating someone who didn't actually have anything to do with it.

"If they haven't done anything, we won't find anything," she said gently, "but it's important that you tell us everything so we can find out what really did happen. Even the slightest thing might help."

Janet nodded slowly, staring at the screen. Rachel's patience when interviewing had really improved, she noticed with distinct pride.

Laura seemed to be steeling herself.

"There was this ex boyfriend of hers," she almost whispered, "he made a re-appearance while she was with John. I don't think she ever told John about it, she didn't want to cause problems, because she said it was a mistake. She was drunk or upset or something, this ex was her first love and you never really get over that, do you? Anyway, apparently he was in town for a weekend – he lives in the States now – and she and him… You know."

"She slept with him?"

"Just the once, she said," Laura answered miserably, her eyes filling with tears. "She beat herself up about it for ages."

"What's his name?"

"Rory Matthews"

"And how long ago was this?"

"About… Two, three months ago?"

Janet inhaled sharply. She looked eagerly at Rachel, whose face remained impassive. Janet was sure she'd spotted it though.

"Okay," Rachel said, making a note, "I've just got one more question. You said earlier that you didn't know John all that well; it was Katie you saw all the time, yeah?"

"Yes," Laura replied firmly.

"Did you tell Katie that she should tell him?"

"I did mention it," Laura said, annoyance flitting across her face, "but she was very stubborn. She thought it would do more harm than good and my loyalty lay with her."

"Okay," Rachel said again. "Thank you, Laura. Is there anything else you'd like to tell us before you go?"

"No," Laura replied, looking relieved at the prospect of going home. "Just… Will you keep me informed? I want to know who did this… So we can all, you know, move on…"

Rachel glanced sympathetically at the young woman.

"I'm sorry, since you're neither Katie nor John's next of kin so we can't keep you directly informed. We'll keep their families up to date; it's up to them if they want to pass what we tell them on to you."

"That's fine," Laura replied, "I understand."

While Rachel showed Laura out and Lee packed up from the interview, Janet sent a text round the team instructing them to be in the briefing room at 12, then went to buy in some lunch. It would probably be a long meeting, but Janet didn't have any objection to that – anything to be kept busy and take her mind off Gill. She knew Sammy would call if there was any news, and meanwhile Janet was determined to keep Gill's beloved syndicate's reputation as high as it had always been and crack this case. Plus, the quicker the job was done, the quicker she'd be able to spend more time committing herself to Gill and Sammy. It had been made clear by the head of MIT that, if there was no improvement or the situation worsened, the team would get a few days off after they'd finished this case while a more permanent arrangement was made in terms of the running of the syndicate and in order for them to get their heads round everything and do what they could for Gill. For the moment, however, their duty of care came first, and MIT was so busy that they couldn't hand the case over to another syndicate – especially given that it was a double murder and they had no idea who the killer was. Hopefully, though, after this meeting that would change – not only would Mitch and Kevin be reporting back on the TIEs, they had the interview with Laura to pick apart and a psychological profiler was joining them to give his expert opinion on who they might be looking for.

Finally, they got down to the meeting. Janet was right when she'd thought it would be a long one; it went on for hours. The TIE, it seemed, had been disappointing – all of the few people suggested by the young couple's family suggested as people who might be of interest (ex partners, old feuds, that sort of thing) had had cast iron alibis and none of them had had much of a motive.

"So really," Mitch concluded, chucking his empty sandwich packet in the bin, "nobody they know had any inclination to kill them. Maybe we're looking for a random nutter."

"No," Janet replied thoughtfully, "I don't think it fits with a random nutter… It was too neatly executed, too well thought out. Unless we've got a pedantic nutter…"

"What do you think, Dr Hynes?" Mark asked, scribbling on his pad.

"I think Janet's got a point about the pedantry," Martin answered, nodding at her, "and about it not being a random nutter. Whoever did this did it by the book, like something out of an old murder mystery. They're not interested in causing pain or spreading fear. It almost seems to me like this was an eradication of these people from this person's life. So I'd say it was somebody close to them, somebody who had a major reason for wanting them not to be in their life anymore and just wanted to get rid of them. Of course, it's a pretty extreme way to go about it so I think rather than looking for someone with previous, you should be looking for someone with a history of psychological problems."

"Great," Mark said, pen still flying across the page in front of him, "can you give us any indication of sex, race, age…?"

Martin paused.

"Well, obviously there were two people involved. I think one was an accomplice. For the brains behind it, I think you're looking for a female. White. Fairly young… Maybe early to mid twenties? There's a certain naivety to the way this was carried out which is what makes me think she was young. Bearing this in mind along with the fact that, according to the post mortem report, whoever strangled the woman had quite small hands, so that would fit with a female. On the other hand, the hands that strangled the male were bigger, so perhaps a boyfriend. Again I'd say fairly young, white, probably not all that intelligent, maybe a bit of previous and definitely some sort of connection independent of the female to this couple."

"Thanks Martin," Janet said, glancing round the table. "Can anyone think of-"

"That ex-boyfriend of Katie's," Rachel butted in, glancing down at her notes. "Rory Matthews. Apparently they slept together, one-night stand, a few months ago."

"Cheeky," Kevin smirked. Mark shot him a look, but it didn't have the same effect as Gill's looks did; Kevin continued to grin across at Rachel, who pointedly ignored him as she relayed the interview with Laura to the team.

"Laura didn't have an address for him," Rachel finished, "but we can find out where he is, can't we?"

"The potential problem," Mark said, frowning, "is getting him back from the States."

"Well we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Janet replied, taking her glasses off and rubbing her eyes, "he probably still has family here; he could be back and forth every few weeks."

"Right, someone go and check that out, please," Mark said, glancing round at them all, "and the rest of you need to have another think about what there is other than CCTV around that woods that might give us a clue."

The rest of the afternoon passed in a very headache-inducing sort of way; Janet spent a lot of time at her computer, looking at cycle trails and bridleways, public footpaths and local sites of interest that were in or near the woods. By the time they left work at about 8pm, she'd compiled a list and had another look through the CCTV, just to make sure they hadn't missed anything. For Janet, however, it was still nowhere near home time – she needed to go to the hospital.

"Are you going to see Gill tonight?" Rachel asked, seemingly having read her mind.

"Yeah, but I'm not staying long unless there's been any change. I'm gonna try and persuade Sammy to come back to mine so I can feed him and make sure he actually goes to bed."

Rachel smiled sadly. "Poor kid."

Janet nodded, fishing around in her bag for her car keys. "Do you want to come with me?"

"Erm. Yeah, go on then."

"Can I come?" interrupted a voice from behind them.

"_You _want to visit Gill in hospital?" Janet asked Kevin incredulously, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah!" he said, and his indignation seemed genuine. "I know I piss her off and she can be a right bitch sometimes but that's just the way it is, like, it's just banter."

"Yeah but still," Janet was confused, "I thought you didn't like her."

"I do!" Kevin insisted, eyes wide, "she's like, almost human sometimes, when she's not being Godzilla. And she gave me a chance when the bitch from the black lagoon tried to get me chucked out. People think I don't appreciate it but I'm not THAT much of a knob."

"Come on then," Janet smiled, patting him on the arm.

"Yeah, let's go," Rachel chipped in, "and me and Jan can enjoy this rare moment of you not being a complete arse."

"Oh thanks," Kevin huffed, mock-hurt.

They all drove to the hospital in their separate cars, but as they walked in from the car park Janet half-listened as Rachel and Kevin bickered good-naturedly. It was nice to hear them trying to act normally. Janet knew that both of them were worried about Gill, Rachel especially, but they were trying not to show it and Janet knew this was how Gill would have wanted them to be.

It didn't take long before they were quietly opening the door to Gill's private room in the hospital. Sammy was sitting in his chair, the bags under his eyes so pronounced it could have been Halloween costume make-up, his posture stooped. He glanced up as they came in and it was obvious he'd been crying.

Rachel half-smiled at him, her expression sympathetic.

"Hiya kid," she said gently.

Sammy merely nodded back at her, his gaze flitting immediately back to his mother. Rachel approached Gill's bedside and took the chair on the other side, unashamedly reaching out to take hold of her boss' hand and blinking a little more than was usually necessary. Kevin hung around slightly awkwardly next to her, looking down at Gill with a strange expression on his face – a tiny bit nervous, but mainly shocked at the sight of all the bruises and bandages. His eyes had lost their usual twinkle and he stood quietly, one hand on Rachel's shoulder (which was trembling slightly as she attempted to keep her emotions in check), staring down at Gill helplessly.

Janet went straight round to Sammy and knelt by his chair.

"Sammy?"

He turned to look at her with a heart-wrenchingly forced smile.

"Sammy… I think maybe you should come back to mine tonight. We can stop at your house on the way to get you a change of clothes, pyjamas and stuff." Sammy looked as if he was going to interrupt, but Janet continued firmly, "I want you to have a proper meal and try and get a good night's sleep. As you know, I don't live too far from the hospital and they'll call if there's even the slightest change."

"Thank you," he said quietly, "I appreciate it, I really do, but I want to stay here."

"Sammy, your mum wouldn't want you to starve yourself. She'd want to know that you were healthy, that's all she's ever wanted. She loves you so much; it would break her heart to see you starving yourself of food and sleep like this."

Sammy's eyes had filled with tears again and he brushed his arm across his eyes impatiently, nodding, seemingly unable to speak. He leaned forward and kissed Gill gently on a patch of unbruised cheek.

"I'm going to Janet's for the night, mum," he said, sniffing, "but I promise I'll be back in the morning or.. Or sooner, if you need me." He paused, lowering his voice even further. "I love you."

"Okay?" Janet smiled, as Sammy put his jacket on. "Come on, love."

They stood up together. Sammy seemed to almost sway; hardly surprising given that he hadn't eaten for goodness knew how long. Janet reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. He took a deep, calming breath and glanced back at Gill one more time before they left the room. Rachel and Kevin mouthed their goodbyes to Janet as she followed Sammy out of the door; they were obviously planning to stay a bit longer.

When Janet got Sammy home, after a brief stop at Gill's house for him to run in and pick up his things (which he did hastily, clearly not wanting to spend any more time than necessary in the empty house) she made him a cup of coffee and told him to make himself comfortable on the sofa while she started dinner. It was just a chicken and mushroom risotto; simple but filling and nutritious. When she went back into the living room, Sammy was watching the television while Taisie sat at his feet, leaning against his legs as she read one of her teen magazines, and Elise sat next to him on the sofa, also watching the telly, one of her arms linked through his. Although he still looked worried, the haunted look he'd worn in the hospital had faded ever so slightly; some of the colour had returned to his cheeks and he looked more comfortable than Janet had seen him since the accident. She smiled to herself, pleased at the way Sammy was improving and proud of her girls for the quiet but steadfast support they were showing him.

After the meal, in which Taisie complained about the mushrooms and stubbornly left them on her plate and Elise allowed herself a few moments to boast about the German oral she'd come top in, Sammy looked even more relaxed and incredibly sleepy.

"Bed time, I think," Janet yawned as she unceremoniously dumped all the pots into the dishwasher, only half-bothering to stack them in an orderly fashion.

"Night mum," Taisie bounced over and hugged her, before waving at Sammy and hurrying off upstairs to bed, although Janet thought it more likely that she was off to message her friends on her computer.

Elise smiled at her mother and held her arms out for a hug too. Janet smiled into her eldest daughter's hair as she planted a kiss on top of her head, murmuring a goodnight. Elise pulled away and then walked over to Sammy and kissed him on the cheek, simply saying "night!"

"Night," Sammy replied, unexpectedly pulling Elise into a brief hug with an even more unexpected smile. There was nothing going on between them, Janet was sure – Sammy was too happy with Orla – but they'd always got on well and he needed a friend at the moment. Janet was glad Elise seemed happy to take on that role.

Sammy and Janet made their way upstairs last, Janet pointing out the bathroom before showing him into the guest bedroom. He dropped his bag on the bed, looking relieved at the idea of a proper night's sleep. He still looked desperately sad though, and Janet wished there was something she could do to help.

"Got everything you need?" she smiled as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah. Thank you, Janet," he said, looking up at her gratefully. "If you hadn't… I dunno what…"

"I know," Janet answered gently. "You're more than welcome."

He gave her a brief smile, which she returned as she left the room. Halfway through closing the door, however, she heard a hastily stifled sob from within the room. Janet hovered, her hand still on the doorknob, unsure whether to go back in or not. She decided she would check; if Sammy wanted her to leave him alone then she would, but she wanted to make sure first.

Softly, Janet opened the door again and slipped back into the room, looking down at the eighteen year old boy crying on her guest bed. Sammy, who had always been so independent and capable, seemed more like a child to her now than he had when he was about thirteen. Which was completely understandable.

He hadn't tried to hide his tears or asked her to leave, so Janet moved across the room and sat next to him on the bed. Wordlessly, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him gently towards her. He allowed her to; his head came to rest on her shoulder and he cried into her jumper while she stroked his hair, murmuring condolences and little phrases of hope into his ear, the way she so often had with Taisie and Elise. The way she had, once or twice, with his mother. It must have been half an hour that they sat there, Sammy sobbing unashamedly, a few tears leaking from Janet's own eyes and sliding slowly down her cheeks, leaving trails of mascara in their wake. It seemed only natural for the young boy and the tired woman to share their grief and take comfort from each other. Physically, they sat on the guest bed in Janet's house, but mentally, they were both still at the hospital. Mentally, neither of them had left Gill's side, not for one moment.


	5. Day 4: Julie

**A/N: Hi everyone! So, finally, here's another chapter… This one's quite emotional because it's Julie's chapter, and obviously she's missing Gill a lot because they're best friends. It might be a bit inconsistent or have spelling mistakes because it's half 2 in the morning and I really don't have time to check because I've got to be up for work, but I will check it through tomorrow night and edit out any mistakes! I thought you deserved it ASAP because, again, I've been crap at updating. So pleease review and, most importantly, enjoy! L x**

As Sammy lay curled up in Janet's spare bedroom, Gill continued to show no signs of life other than the machine still beeping steadily next to her. The hospital was not very busy; it was two o'clock in the morning, and the majority of the activity was taking place in the A&E department. In intensive care, apart from the usual sounds of the odd patient coming and going and the nurses doing their rounds, there was quiet. The peaceful silence of night and the comforting sounds of the nurses moving gently around were broken by the clack, clack of a pair of red, patent heels, walking tiredly but firmly towards Gill's room. To DSI Julie Dodson, the time was not something of great importance. Night or day, she got on with whatever she had to be doing. And right now, that was visiting her best friend.

Julie had been away at a conference when Gill had been admitted. It was a big event; some of the biggest names in policing had been there and she'd been fascinated to hear them speak about their experiences and their approach to crime. Her syndicate all knew how much it meant to her, so when Janet had turned up a couple of days ago looking for her, they had promised to pass the message on when the conference was over. Julie couldn't deny her annoyance that she hadn't been informed immediately, but at the same time she knew they'd done her a favour – of course, she would have left the conference if she'd known and that would have meant that some of the ideas and lessons she'd taken on didn't come back with her to enrich the job her team were doing.

Now, however, Julie was making Gill her first priority. Her DS had phoned her while she'd been taking a service station break on the drive back up from London and delivered the news, and Julie, despite being exhausted, had driven straight to the hospital instead of home. Her own tiredness could wait.

She slipped into Gill's room as quietly as she could, trying not to disturb anyone in the rooms around. After she closed the door, Julie leant against it for a moment, taking a deep breath, without looking towards Gill. She'd seen plenty of injuries in her time but it was different when they belonged to her best friend. Having prepared herself, Julie inched over to Gill's bed and sank into the chair next to it, her eyes fixed on the woman before her.

The bandages and wires and bruises, Julie had expected. She'd seen it hundreds of times before. It was the expression on Gill's face that scared Julie the most; she'd never seen her look so peaceful. Gill had a whole repertoire of facial expressions that showed themselves on a daily basis; interest when she was being told something about a case, concentration as she thought it over, eagerness as she briefed her team, disapproval as she told Kevin off for messing about or amusement as she joked with those special few who she considered to be her friends. Occasionally, Julie had seen her display tiredness or sadness, and definitely anger if something had really gone tits up. Once or twice, round at her house, Julie had witnessed her best friend show an expression of love, towards Sammy or, years ago, Dave. In the same situation, she'd seen her cry. But never, ever, even when she was asleep, had Julie seen her look this peaceful. Gill somehow wasn't Gill in this state; she didn't do relaxed, she was sad or happy, excited or harried, angry or amused. Occasionally she mellowed slightly during the odd night in or after a few glasses of wine, but you could still see her brilliant mind working, taking in every detail around her even when she was inebriated. Now, she could have been anyone. Had it not been for her striking and, even under all the bandaging, attractive bone structure, her annoyingly perfect-looking features and her shortish brown hair, Julie wouldn't have recognised her.

Blinking away tears that she only ever shed in front of this one person, Julie reached out and took Gill's hand in both her own, squeezing it softly as if to reassure her of her presence. No response. Julie wasn't sure what she had expected, but all of a sudden she felt sick. What if Gill didn't wake up? How would she, Julie, get by without her to look forward to?

"Gill, come on, you stupid, stupid, f-fat-" Julie couldn't get the rest of the words out; the sobs wracking her body wouldn't give her time to stutter even a single word. Nobody realised just how close she and Gill were, because neither of them were the type to let anybody know too much about their emotions. They had been best friends for longer than either of them cared to remember and their friendship had never wavered. Of course, they'd had the odd argument, but wherever they'd been and however much they'd had on their plates, they'd always had time for each other. Now Gill had too much time, not that she could share it with anyone. Julie, meanwhile, felt like she had too little. Morning was fast approaching and in a few hours she'd have to be back in the office, unable to be with Gill. Shaking, she lowered her head and kissed the petite hand she was still holding onto as if for dear life, crying as she mumbled the word "please" over and over again.

Still no response.

After about a quarter of an hour, Julie began to calm down, her tiredness getting the better of her. As her levels of grief lowered again to a more normal, dull sort of ache, she regained some of her sense and it was then, for the first time, that she realised that Sammy was noticeable only by his absence. Digging around in her handbag, she pulled out her phone and, scrolling quickly through her contacts, was relieved to find she had his number. She had no idea where he was. Was it at Gill's house, all on his own? Was he with Orla?

"Sammy," she tapped out, her fingers making a quiet padding sound on the touchscreen, "I've just got back and come straight to the hospital to see your mum. No change, but I wanted to check that you're bearing up okay. Give me a call if there's anything you need. Julie x"

Send. Julie tucked her phone back into her bag, wiping away a solitary tear that had slipped out, lagging behind the rest. She moved her chair a little further back from the bed and stretched her legs out in front of her, resisting the urge to rest them on the end of Gill's bed. Allowing her head to tilt to one side, she closed her eyes and allowed the sleepiness that had been nagging at her for hours overcome her. The last thing she heard as she dozed off was the continuous, reassuring bleep of the machine.

A few hours later, although it seemed only minutes, she was woken by someone tapping her on the shoulder, saying her name softly. Her eyes snapped open and she glanced around, yawning. When she saw Gill lying in the hospital bed, she remembered with an unpleasant jolt where she was and why she was there. Looking back at the person who'd woken her up, she discovered it was Sammy.

"Oh, hiya kid," she said, yawning.

"Hi," Sammy replied, looking at her with some uncertainty.

"What's up?" she asked, glancing at Gill again, then back at Sammy. "What time is it?"

"That's why I woke you up," he answered, looking uncomfortable. "I just got here, Janet dropped me off on her way to work but I went to see the doctor first… It's half past eight."

"Shit!" Julie jumped up, "I should've been in work half an hour ago! The traffic'll be terrible now… Bloody thing," she added, chucking her phone (which had run out of battery and as such the alarm had failed to go off) into her bag with some force. "Before I go, though," she paused, looking shrewdly at Sammy, wanting to know he was alright. "When you say Janet dropped you off… Does that mean you're staying with her?"

"Yeah," he said quietly, with a sad look towards his mother, "she didn't like the idea of me knocking about in the house on my own… Neither did I much" he confessed.

Julie nodded, relieved. She'd been worried about that. Obviously she'd have offered him a place to stay but it might have been slightly awkward, just her and him, whereas at Janet's he would have her daughters to spend time with.

"Good," she replied. She patted him on the shoulder, giving him a tired smile, wanting to show her support. "I've really gotta go but I'll check in again later. Look after her."

"I will."

Julie hurried from the room and dashed along the corridor, leaving Sammy by himself with Gill. Poor kid must have been quite disappointed to find her there, she thought; if he'd been away all night he'd be anxious to get back and inspect Gill for any changes without her poking her nose in.

It was a long and stressful journey to work, which seemed to set the tone for the entire day. Julie's team had been working on the murder of a twenty two year old man. It had been resolved fairly quickly; it was all to do with drugs and owing money, something they had, unfortunately, seen so many times it was almost routine. But that didn't make it any less rife with paperwork. Julie spent the majority of the day in her office, leaving only for forty five minutes to visit the man's family and break the difficult news that their son had owed drug money and had been murdered for that reason. They hadn't seemed surprised and Julie in turn hadn't been surprised by that. It was a notorious area.

Finally, at six o'clock that evening, Julie dismissed her team. They hadn't had anything new that day and she wanted them to get a good rest ready for an inevitable influx that would be coming their way within the next couple of days. Despite, however, having had only about four uncomfortable hours of sleep in a hospital chair the night before, Julie did not go home. She finished everything she had to do in the office, drove to a little restaurant she liked that a lot of people ate in on their own (usually accompanied by laptops, notepads or newspapers) for a quick pasta carbonara, then proceeded straight back to the hospital.

It was about half past seven by the time she arrived, and Sammy was still there, but this time he was not alone. A girl sat next to him. She was petite and pretty, her hair a dark shade of blonde and her cheekbones pronounced. She was the kind of girl who could easily have been arrogant and showy, but she was dressed simply in jeans and a jumper. She was pale and concerned-looking, clutching Sammy's hand in an obvious gesture of support, but she looked as if she needed the reassurance almost as much as he did. Her eyes were warm and her smile, although small and pained, genuine when she turned to look at Julie entering the room. Julie had never met this girl before, but she knew she must be Orla. Gill had talked about her before. She seemed very fond of her, and Julie could see here that the feeling was reciprocated. Sammy looked calmer than he had done earlier; the slight panic that had been omnipresent in his eyes had faded to a dull sort of sadness, but there was something else in there too. Love, perhaps? Both for the girl sitting silently by his side, providing him with the strength he needed to keep this seemingly endless vigil, and the woman lying in the bed, motionless but still alive.

Julie didn't interrupt them. She'd swapped her red heels for the emergency pair of comfy black pumps she kept in a cupboard at work, and so she stepped quietly over to her chair of the night before and sank wearily into it, her eyes already on Gill again. Sammy and Orla continued to sit still, not speaking, and Julie joined their silent watch gratefully.

A couple of hours later, the door to Gill's room opened again. Julie turned to look at the newcomers and was not at all surprised to see Rachel and Janet, both looking like she felt, slip quietly into the room. She nodded at them, with a brief, perfunctory smile. Janet returned it, warmly but tiredly, while Rachel looked at Gill, disappointment written all over her face.

"Still no change?" she asked in a low voice, not removing her gaze from her boss' bruised face.

"No," It was Sammy who answered, and everyone turned to look at him. He too was looking at Gill, sadness radiating off him like heat. Orla was now curled up on her chair, her head resting on his shoulder. Julie saw her place a hand on his knee and squeeze it comfortingly. Rachel nodded, looking somewhat defeated, and plonked herself down in a chair. Janet, on the other hand, spoke again – "Right, well, I've just popped in to check up on her. Sammy, have you spoken to the doctor at all today?"

"Yeah, he came in earlier. He couldn't tell me anything new."

"Okay," Janet said softly, "Well, I'm gonna have to go home, much as I'd like to stay. The girls'll be waiting up. Sammy, do you want to come back again tonight?"

Sammy hesitated, still not taking his eyes off Gill. Orla touched his cheek gently. "I think you should," she murmured. Sammy nodded and stood up.

"Orla, do you have a way to get home or would you like a lift?" Janet asked, smiling at the girl. Julie could tell that Janet, like she herself, had taken an instant liking to the polite young girl who seemed so genuinely fond of Sammy, and of Gill.

"That'd be great, actually, thanks" Orla replied. "I live in Featherstall."

"That's fine."

Julie watched, feeling quite detached, as Sammy and Orla gathered up their stuff. Orla briefly rested a hand on top of Gill's before moving over to join Janet at the door; Sammy kissed the same hand. Janet was watching them with moist eyes. Julie could see her aching to stay all night, almost as much as Sammy did. However, within a couple of minutes they'd left and the sound of their footsteps in the corridor had died away.

"How're you holding up, Rachel?" Julie asked quietly. Rachel was silent on her chair; she'd merely given a brief wave by means of goodbye to Janet, Sammy and Orla.

"She- Well, she's not just my boss you know, she's actually quite… I don't want her to die."

"Me and you both, kiddo," Julie replied, looking sadly over at Gill, who was motionless as ever, unable to hear her protégée and her best friend sharing a quiet moment of wishing together.

After a moment, Julie glanced at Rachel again. Her jaw was set, but her eyes were brimming with tears. Julie suddenly felt a pang of guilt. She really had suspected Rachel in that Nick Savage investigation; it had just all added up too much. She'd ignored Gill's pledges of Rachel's character and her surety that her DC wouldn't risk any more for that man.

"She's really fond of you, you know," Julie offered tentatively. She didn't usually go in for flattery, but this wasn't flattery as such… It seemed important for Rachel to know. "She can be a grumpy bugger sometimes and she might snap at you when she thinks you're being a bit dim, but really she has a lot of confidence in you. She once told me she wished she had more people like you."

Rachel looked back at Julie, her expression changing in quick succession from surprise, to intense grief, to gratitude. Her mouth had formed a definite frown now, her lips trembling slightly. One of the tears escaped and formed a little track of mascara down her right cheek. She was nodding, apparently unable to speak.

"Thank you," she half-whispered, before covering her face with her hands, leaning forwards slightly. Julie regarded her sympathetically, tears pricking at the corners of her own eyes. A muffled sob came from behind Rachel's hands and Julie reached into her handbag and retrieved a tissue.

"Here," she said, passing it over. Rachel took it from her, smiling faintly through her tears, and blew her nose quite loudly. It was the sort of thing Gill would have made a joke about, had she been awake. The full feeling in Julie's eyes became more insistent. She blinked quickly, hoping Rachel hadn't noticed. But she had. Of course she had, she was a brilliant detective. She noticed everything. Just like Julie herself, just like Gill.

"She's talked about you to me… Well, us, too" Rachel said. "She's quite…"

"Sarcastic?" Julie supplied, raising an eyebrow and letting out a half laugh, half sob.

"Well yeah," Rachel replied shakily, apparently trying to get her voice under control, "but it's obvious that she really… You know, respects you. She always gets excited when you're on the phone. It's quite… funny, really."

Now Julie was the one who felt speechless. She was crying properly again now, but so was Rachel, and neither of them made any attempt to stop it.

Rachel carried on, though, through her tears. "We could do with her at the moment. We've been trying to trace someone all day to TIE but we can't find him anywhere. We just don't seem to work as well without her."

"You're not the only ones," Julie whispered, thinking of the miserable, arduous day she'd had. Even though she didn't hear from Gill daily, far from it, it was the fact that she knew she _couldn't _just pick up the phone and talk to her, the fact that she didn't have a choice, that had distracted her all day.

"She's just, she's like…-"

"I know," Julie said. Rachel was trying to say that Gill was their leader, their main critic but also their main supporter, the person who motivated them and encouraged them and kept them in line. Without her, they were lost.

Wordlessly, Julie reached across and squeezed Rachel's hand. She returned the gesture, smiling faintly, although the trails of mascara on her cheeks were still glistening.

"Well," Julie said, feeling a bit calmer, "I think I'd better go and get some sleep, love. And you should too. We've both got to work tomorrow."

"Yeah," Rachel answered, rising from her seat. "I'll look in again tomorrow night."

"Me too. Come on…"

Together, they left the room, whispering goodbyes that Gill couldn't hear as they went. When they got to the carpark, Julie pointed towards her car. "I'm over there."

"Well, I'm over there," Rachel replied, gesturing vaguely in the other direction.

"I'll probably see you tomorrow then," Julie said, feeling slightly awkward. She'd barely spoken to this woman before tonight, except to treat her as a suspect in a murder investigation, and yet suddenly they'd had a bit of a heart to heart.

"Yeah." Rachel agreed, rummaging around in her handbag for her car keys.

"Okay, night."

"Night."

They both stood and looked at each other for a moment. Then, Julie wasn't sure quite how, or who had made the first move, but they were hugging tightly as though they'd known each other for years. Julie could feel a nerve twitching in Rachel's jaw against her shoulder, and heard a muttered "thank you" in her ear. Trying to keep her own emotions in check, she returned the thanks, whispering into Rachel's ear like a little girl telling a friend a secret. It sort of was a secret. Julie didn't do public displays of emotion, rather like Gill.

After that, they went their separate ways. As Julie settled herself in the driver's seat, she began to acknowledge that she was awfully tired. She was glad she'd spent plenty of time with Gill, but she had to admit she was also glad to be heading home to bed. She hoped Rachel would manage to get some sleep. Somehow she thought both of them would, after the last couple of hours. They'd both helped each other, and dimly Julie thought that Gill would have been pleased. And that made her pleased too.


	6. Day 5: Kevin: Part 1

**A/N:** **I am inexcusable. This has taken me an embarrassing length of time to update. I hope this chapter is okay; it's Kevin's turn and I've split his day into two because there's a lot going on. Also, I hope the crime isn't too boring/flawed; crime isn't really my forte but I've made my bed now so I'll have to lie in it! Hope to have Kevin Part 2 up much faster. L x**

"Janet Scott?"

Janet's voice emanated from Kevin's car speakers, sounding businesslike.

"It's Kevin. Sorry, Scotty, but I'm not gonna be in on time, I'm stuck in traffic. Accident at the roundabout." Kevin spoke loudly so Janet would hear him over the vibrations of the engine and the sound of other drivers beeping their horns impatiently. He winced as he spoke the word "accident", trying to keep his mind on what he was doing.

"Right. Well, Kev, the briefing's not for another couple of hours so as long as you're here by then I think you'll be fine."

"Alright. Cheers, Janet." Kevin's thanks were perfunctory; in the absence of any driving to concentrate on due to the stationary traffic jam, and given the situation that had caused it, his thoughts were beginning to take a rather unpleasant direction. He stuck his head out of the window and craned his neck, trying to see to the front of the queue. He wasn't too far back, but nobody could move until the three cars that had been involved in the crash and were currently blocking the entrance to the roundabout had been cleared. The process was still in its early stages; there were ambulances on the scene and Kevin caught sight of a boy in a school uniform being helped into one of them, visibly shaking like a leaf and apparently unable to put much weight on his left leg. An upset-looking woman followed him, waving the paramedics off as they attempted to check her over. She was obviously his mother, Kevin mused as he wound the window back up again and settled back into his seat for what he knew would be quite a wait.

Absentmindedly, Kevin reached into the glove box and took out a packet of sweets. He ate a couple, but they didn't taste right. He checked the expiry date – May 2014. Maybe he just didn't have an appetite for them. This week, for the first time in at least ten years, Kevin had lost his appetite, and it was a very strange situation to be in. He hadn't been able to eat properly since he'd heard that his boss was comatose in hospital.

_Don't think about it_, he told himself sternly. _Think about the case. _

The case wasn't a particularly cheerful thing to reflect on either, but it was better than reliving his visit to the hospital with Rachel all over again.

The team were still fairly stumped as to who the murderer(s) could be. They had been unable to track down a British "Rory Matthews" in the area in which Laura had told them he lived, which meant someone was lying or had got their facts very wrong. Laura had apparently been shocked when Rachel called her back in to tell her that they hadn't been able to trace him. There was definitely something suspicious there, and the team were still trying to trace him, but in the meantime they had to continue along other lines of enquiry.

Kevin put his head in his hands on the steering wheel. He couldn't believe he'd got stuck in this jam now, of all times. He was so determined to work hard on this case. For Kevin was not stupid; he knew he spent most of his time being a dickhead, but he liked to think it was in a loveable sort of way. However, now he felt that he owed it to Gill to actually knuckle down and push himself. Now, he felt bad for how much he gave her to put up with. He wanted her to be able to wake up and be told she didn't need to worry; her untimely accident hadn't jeopardised the case, they'd managed to solve it. He wanted whoever told her to be able to say "Kevin was brilliant. He worked really hard on this one." He wanted to make her proud of him, silly and childish though it sounded. Kevin also knew that Janet and Rachel in particular would be struggling more than the rest of them to hold it together and he wanted to be able to take some of the pressure off their shoulders – particularly Rachel's. She might be marrying Sean but that didn't alter the way Kevin felt about her – if she was miserable, he was miserable, and that was that.

Half an hour later, Kevin felt like he was going mad. Stuck in his car with no appetite for his sweets, nothing good on the radio, knowing he was probably missing loads at work was incredibly annoying. There was still no sign of movement; the last ambulance had just left but it seemed they were waiting on a recovery lorry for at least one car. Sighing, he switched his engine off and got out his smartphone (his most recent toy). He absentmindedly opened up Facebook, checking it for the first time in ages.

Not much was happening in his news feed. It was full of people from way back when who he wasn't very bothered about these days. He wondered if Rachel had Facebook and searched, knowing she probably didn't but too bored not to look. He didn't find her, but then proceeded to go through the rest of the syndicate. He found Mitch, but there was nothing to look at – he hadn't posted anything for about three years.

Running out of names, Kevin decided to try something else. He searched for Katie, their pregnant victim. She'd a fairly common name but the traffic jam wasn't going anywhere any time soon and after ten minutes of scrolling he found her – and better still, her privacy settings were barely existent. Kevin sat up straight and held the phone closer to his face, scrolling slowly through her timeline, looking for clues.

Her profile was cluttered with recent posts from other people. Friends and colleagues wanting to say goodbye and rest in peace, words of sorrow and love that were touching but somehow, Kevin thought, creepy. There was something just not right about dead people still having Facebook accounts. He didn't read the messages, simply glancing at the names as they whizzed past, pausing on a couple. Laura had written a long, soppy post and attached a photo of the two girls when they were children. Kevin didn't dwell on the post, but was distracted by Laura's name. He went for her profile instead, curious to know if she'd said anything about the investigation. She hadn't posted for a few days; nothing except for a heartfelt status informing her friends of Katie and John's tragic demise. Kevin wandered instead to her information. Her relationship status was "in a relationship", but it didn't specify with whom. He looked at her education and employment. She'd done French and German to A-level, he noticed, had spent a year abroad as an au pair before going to the same university as Katie to study modern languages. She'd worked as a nursery assistant too. So she was clever, and she clearly liked children. Kevin wondered how she would have reacted to Katie's pregnancy. Would she have been excited? Auntie Laura, always keen to babysit and give presents and teach them how to count to ten in French?

Immersed in his task, although hardly daring to think about how Janet and Rachel (_not Gill, don't think about Gill_) would react if they knew he was stooping to the levels of Facebook for information, and ignoring the fact that he'd become completely distracted from Katie, Kevin continued scrolling. Pages that she'd liked. Musicians, films, books, charities. And then one that caught his eye – IVF.

They all knew that Laura didn't have children, but it was hardly surprising. She was only twenty six and wasn't married. She was just getting started out in her career – Kevin remembered vaguely somebody saying that she worked at an airport; perhaps a translator? Could it be that at this age she had already tried for a family and discovered that she was infertile, or was he reading too much into it? She liked children, perhaps she was just showing her support, simply interested in the news from the relatively new world of IVF. It seemed a very unlikely thing to advertise on Facebook if she was actually infertile.

It didn't matter, anyway. She hadn't known that Katie was pregnant, and one Facebook like was hardly grounds to accuse her of possessing malfunctioning ovaries and jealous rage. He went back to her profile and headed instead in the direction of her friends list, intending to see if he could find John on there. He scrolled down through the alphabet, glad that Laura didn't have an obscene number of friends. K... L... M... Kevin had just got to the Ns when he did a double take, scrolling back up to M. Matthews. Rory Matthews. That was Katie's ex boyfriend. Heart thumping, hoping but hardly daring to believe that he might find something, Kevin followed the link to his profile. His location was listed as simply "California", his profile picture him, topless, wearing sunglasses. He was muscular and Kevin could just make out the edges of a tattoo on his left arm. His hair was short, his expression pleased with himself. The type Kevin would have thought more likely to be found on the Costa del Sol than somewhere as far afield as California, but who was he to judge.

Kevin began to hunt through his timeline, looking for more clues as to whereabouts he might live. He'd barely moved down from the profile picture, however, when he heard the car in front of him start its engine – the accident had cleared, the traffic was getting going again. Kevin threw his phone down onto the passenger seat and hurriedly turned his own engine on, eagerly following the car in front over the now-clear roundabout, full of anticipation at the thought of pursuing Matthews' Facebook profile further when he got to work.

The journey went smoothly after that, and Kevin was pleased to discover that he'd managed to get there with half an hour to spare before the briefing. After apologising to their temporary SIO and being told that there was nothing he could do in half an hour but wait for everyone else to get back from their jobs, Kevin was more than happy to go to his desk and have a proper look at Facebook on his computer.

It didn't take him long to find the right profile again, and he scanned the status updates eagerly. They were all boring, mundane – stuff about football mainly (he obviously still followed British footy). Disappointed, Kevin went to log out – but then he noticed something strange. Matthews had not disabled the location function on his statuses, and all the recent ones were listed as "near Manchester". So he was in the area. Quickly, Kevin skimmed back through his posts again, this time looking at the locations. Most of them were in Manchester, all of them in the UK, for at least 6 months back into his Facebook history. He screenshotted them and saved them. It wasn't much to go on; it was evidence that could easily be twisted or explained away, but the fact was that location services didn't glitch so badly as to get confused between California and Manchester for such a long period of time. Matthews had not been living in America, and if Laura saw his posts in her news feed then she knew that. So why had she told them that he was? And where had she got that impression from in the first place?

Engrossed in his thoughts, Kevin jumped slightly at the clatter of the team returning to the office for the briefing. He closed his screenshots and logged out of Facebook, quickly grabbing his notebook and pen. He felt motivated for this meeting, excited almost. It was a strange feeling. Kevin was used to approaching meetings with a degree of trepidation; a solid expectation of impending boredom and/or being told off at some point. It struck him suddenly what a difference actually being prepared made; knowing he had something to contribute despite his late arrival into work.

"Been skiving?" Rachel asked him, only half-teasing.

"No," he retorted, "it's not my fault if some idiots don't know how to drive properly."

There was a tense moment of awkward silence. Janet shot him a "how-could-you-be-so-insensitive" sort of look. Kevin winced inwardly. If this week should have taught him anything, it was that even the best of drivers could have accidents.

Rachel, however, hadn't heard - she had already turned her back to him and started heading for the meeting room. Rattled, feeling defensive and slightly guilty, Kevin followed her.

When they entered the room, Janet produced a large bag of sandwiches and began to distribute them. She chucked a cheese and pickle one over at Kevin and he caught it gratefully – thinking was hungry work, he had decided. It was the first time he'd felt really hungry since...

"Right," Mark said as he sat down, attracting everybody's attention. The room was silent but for the rustling of sandwich packets. "We've heard from the lab again. It seems forensics aren't going to help us much on this one. No DNA, no clothing fibres. All we've really got from the post-mortems is the different hand sizes on the necks that tell us we're looking for two assailants. How're we doing with TIEs?"

Mitch answered immediately.

"I have actually got something to report! John's parents have provided us with a list of his ex-girlfriends (the ones serious enough for them to have met, anyway) and it seems Katie's best friend Laura is on there."

"Laura?" Rachel said, brow furrowed. "But she told us she didn't know John that well; she said that it was Katie she always saw."

"Well she wouldn't want to see him much, if he was her ex..." Pete chipped in, with the air of one stating the obvious.

"It's still a funny thing to say though," Janet said, "She obviously knew him well at some point."

"Must have been a pretty strong friendship between her and Katie," Lee remarked, "to survive one marrying the other's ex."

"She might not have been that bothered about him by then. Teenage relationship; people grow out of each other." Mark said, "but I think it's worth getting her back in to ask about it. DC Bailey?"

"Yep," Rachel confirmed, making a note of it.

Kevin cleared his throat. Everyone looked round, mostly with incredulity, obviously expecting him to say something stupid.

"Actually, there's something else you need to ask Laura about when she comes in," he announced, his hands slightly clammy. He was worried about the thinness of his evidence. "I think I know why we haven't been able to track down Rory Matthews in America..."

They were all looking at him expectantly now. Rachel had even written something down. Ignoring the probability that it was probably a doodle of him as a dung beetle or something, Kevin continued. He told them about how he'd found Rory Matthews on Laura's friends list, about the location updates, about the very up-to-date British football knowledge.

"I know it's not much to go on," he concluded, "but I can't believe his phone, whatever's, GPS has got it so wrong that it's put him on the wrong continent for months on end."

"I think it's worth investigating," Mark said, with an approving nod towards Kevin. "We overlook basic stuff like online activity far too much. Has he got any previous?"

"Nobody's checked," Janet said, rifling through papers and looking confused.

"Well, let's make that a priority," Mark ordered.

"Of course."

"Why's he on Laura's friends list anyway?" Pete chipped in.

"They were all at uni together... Makes sense," Rachel replied. "What I want to know is why Laura concealed from us that she had a way of getting in touch with him."

"That's one for us all to think about," Mark said, clearly wanting to wrap things up. "Anyone got anything else to add before we go off and resume our efforts with this Rory Matthews?"

He gave them a moment to shake their heads and mumble.

"Right. Back in here at 5 o clock this afternoon."

They all stood up, yawning and stretching, throwing their sandwich packets at the bin. As Kevin was leaving, Janet intercepted him.

"Well done, Kev. You might have given us a real lead there."

Kevin tried not to smile too broadly (or smugly), glowing with pride inwardly. He really hoped he had – and not just for his own sake.

"Rachel, can you go and ring Laura again, make sure she comes in either this afternoon or first thing tomorrow morning?"

"Yep," Rachel already had the phone in her hand.

Janet turned back to the others.

"Mitch, could you go and check for any previous Rory Matthews might have? And Lee, I want you to go- sorry." She'd been cut off by her phone ringing. "Hello?"

Kevin clicked his pen lid, waiting impatiently to be told what to do. He watched Janet, trying to gauge who she was talking to. She looked serious.

"Hang on, calm down – I can't hear you properly," she was saying, motioning for them all to quieten down.

"Jan, she can't come til late this evening or tomorrow, she's-" Rachel, who'd just finished on the phone to Laura and hadn't realised that Janet was busy, stopped mid sentence, looking slightly annoyed when she was shushed.

Everyone in the office had turned to watch Janet on the phone by now. She was still listening intently. Then, all of a sudden, her face fell.

"Shit."

Kevin felt his stomach do an unpleasant somersault.

"What's up?" Rachel hissed. Everyone looked at each other, scared. Kevin knew they were all thinking the same thing. Gill.

Mark popped his head out of his office, looking a bit annoyed.

"Now look, I know-"

"Shh!" they all dismissed his reprimand, staring at Janet. Kevin scrutinised her face. He hoped it was just a trick of the light and that her eyes hadn't just filled with tears. She gulped visibly.

"Okay love. I'm gonna try and come now. Someone will be there soon, I promise."

She hung up and looked at them all, her face white.

"That was Sammy. It's Gill. She's just gone into cardiac arrest."


End file.
